


Mission Target: H. Keener

by mauvera



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Harley is a little shit, Road Trips, This is the fallout of Natasha dumping shield files online, well he’s escaping from law enforcement does that count
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauvera/pseuds/mauvera
Summary: When Natasha Romanoff released all of Shield’s information to the world, they expected some kind of fall out.But nobody thought to let Harley Keener know he was about to become the biggest target for every single person who wanted to hurt the untouchable Iron Man.With the US military, Shield’s broken remains, and half a dozen c-list villains chasing him, Harley Keener must make his way to New York using nothing but his quick thinking and enough convoluted traps to make Kevin McCallister proud.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to ihavelikenolife and impiissh for letting me steal your ideas for the premise of this fic
> 
> (Oh, also warning that Harley swears a bunch)

Nobody could blame Harley for not being immediately put on edge when the doorbell rang. After all, he had no real reason to be, so it definitely came as one hell of a shock when he turned the handle only to find a gun pointed directly at his face. 

“Huh.” He said, immediately shutting it again. 

The sound of his shoes squeaking as he turned on the spot to run was drowned out by the slam of a body against the flimsy wooden door. Harley felt himself getting thrown across the room as the door slammed into his back. He was already scrambling to his feet as the heavy thud of boots marching in filled the room. 

_ What the fuck is happening?  _ Harley thought absently as gruff shouts filled the room.  _ Who the hell are these guys?  _

He wouldn’t call it silence exactly, but a kind of stillness did settle across the room. Bodies froze in place and there was nothing to hear except harsh sounds of heavy breaths breaking the quiet.

“Hello?” Harley asked, his voice hitching slightly.

Around him the armoured soldiers held their guns unwavering. Harley’s eyes flickered uncertainly around the circle of people surrounding him as he waited for literally any kind of explanation.  _ Please _ . 

“Harley Keener.” His neck whipped around to find the origin of the voice. A stern woman, maybe twice his size with a wicked scar trailing across her face stared back. He gulped. 

“Yes?”

“You are coming with us.” She stated, finger never leaving the trigger. 

Now, Harley was a smart kid, most of the time that is, but he was also nothing if not stubborn. So when the woman bust into  _ his  _ house, demanding  _ he _ leave without any kind of explanation, well that’s when he planted his feet and glared right back at her. 

“No.” 

To her credit, the woman managed to contain her surprise almost instantly, the only tell he could find was a furious twitch of her left eyebrow. 

“What,” she growled, “do you mean ‘ _ no _ ’?”

Harley scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as if he saw all of this as nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Her lip curled angrily at his display of teenage indolence, but that was fine. He needed her mad. If she was pissed then she wouldn’t notice the way he was digging through his pockets for something roughly the size of a piñata for crickets. 

“I mean  _ no _ ,” he snarked, grateful that this time his voice didn’t waver. All he had to do was figure out why these assholes were in his house and then get them out before his mum or sister got back from the store. Easy peasy. “You just broke into my house and you haven’t even told me why you’re here or why you want me. So no. Stranger danger and all that.” His hand waved about flippantly which only seemed to infuriate her further. 

Even if it was definitely the wrong time for it, he couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his lips.

“Now you listen here-” she said, stepping forward. It took all of Harley’s willpower not to glance at the barrel of the gun which had just been lowered towards the ground in her distraction “The Black fucking Widow just realesed half a fucking mountain’s worth of top secret files onto the internet, kid. The US military has better shit to do than come to Fucksville Tennessee and collect you but it seems you’re important to Iron Man. So you’re coming with us and we’re taking you back to New York because the higher ups want to talk to you about what the hell you know about Tony Stark. Is that alright with you?” She sneered. 

Harley barely heard her. His head was ringing. There were files. One included him. Someone knew about him helping Tony. Now everyone did. There were people who hated Tony. That means they might try to come after him to get to Tony. This lady looked pissed. He didn’t like any of this. 

His thoughts were interrupted when she slapped one meaty palm across his arm and tried to yank him out the door with her, not willing to wait for his response. 

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the pounding of his heart trying to break out of his chest, Harley pulled his hand out of his pocket. 

Apparently nobody in the room was prepared for the fourteen year old to have a small flash bomb. Huh.

The moment that light filled the room Harley ripped his arm out of the woman’s grip and sprinted for the garage door, he vaulted across the couch and felt his body slam into the doorframe as he misjudged his momentum but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. 

There was nothing in the world except the pounding of his feet against floorboards and a shuddering crack as he threw the garage door open, yanking it shut behind him. Seconds were all he had to press his hand against the scanner which initiated lock down mode.

He only just tore his hand away and turned to his desk when something began to pound against the door. For a moment Harley felt ready to throw up but to his relief the door held. Of course it held. When Tony Stark says he installed safety features that made Harley’s garage nigh on impossible to infiltrate, well he kept his word to say the least.

Harley flinched as a new sound entered the fray, muffled through the walls but still distinct enough for Harley to know they were now trying to shoot their way in. As much as it really wasn’t the right time all Harley could think of was the fact his mum was going to be pissed when she saw all the bullet holes in the wallpaper. 

Shaking his head to stop his mind going on any more tangents Harley began moving around the room. 

Grabbing his backpack from where it still lay on th floor he was quick to tip it upside down. Textbooks and sheets of homework scattered around the room but Harley didn’t exactly have time to worry about the mess. He was far too busy grabbing supplies.

Supplies for what? He wasn’t quite sure, but if there was one thing he knew it was that he had to get out of there. For whatever reason people were after him now, and he couldn’t let his family get caught up in this. He needed to escape. He needed to find out what was really happening. He needed to get to Tony. 

His hand stilled midair, all the cash from his piggy bank still clutched in his fingers. He could call Tony. He could call him right then and then Iron Man would come and save him. Involuntarily his fingers tightened around the money, his knuckles white with tension. No. He couldn’t call Tony. Whatever was happening was big. Bigger than he could probably imagine and Tony was a very busy, very important man who had better things to do than come rescue some random kid he probably already forgot about. Harley was on his own. He’d just have to make his way to New York himself and  _ then _ he could get Tony’s attention. 

A small part of him whispered that all he was doing was putting himself in danger because he was too embarrassed to ask for help. Harley squashed that thought right down. Just like he did for the one that told him he was trying to play the hero and it was probably going to get him killed. 

A thud from outside pulled him from his own mind as he recalled that, oh yeah, he was in imminent danger. Like, right now. Quickly, he shoved a jacket and water into his pack along with the cash, slingshot and potato gun he had stashed in there. As a second thought he grabbed his tool belt and tied it firmly around his waist. Was it enough? Probably not. 

But Harley was resourceful. He’d figure it out. He would have to. 

“Kid!” Harley spun around but the door was still holding. There was nothing to do except listen to the woman talk to him. He could almost laugh because of how clear it was she was doing everything in her power to keep her anger in check now that she’s realised he has more tricks up his sleeve than she expected. She was wary now. Unsure what his plan was.  _ That makes two of us, lady _ . 

“Kid, I’m… sorry that we frightened you-” Harley scoffed, he could practically hear the way she was grinding her teeth in barely contained fury “-if you could just open the door I’m sure we can all have a nice chat and work it out.”

“Lady,” Harley called back, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulders, “you straight up just tried to shoot me. You think I’m going with you?” 

“We didn’t try to-”

“Sorry! I can’t hear you over the sound of all those bullets you just put in my wall!”

“Listen here you little shi- Kid. You little  _ kid,”  _ he rolled his eyes as she talked and moved back further into the garage. In one movement he pulled a tarp away and dropped it onto the floor absently. For a moment he simply stood there, debating just how bad of an idea he was having at that moment. It was probably super bad. Like, really super bad. Like, so incredibly, awfully, terribly super bad that it just might work. 

“Kid, we’re here to help, just let us in. Please.”

“I thought you guys had better things to do than come to, what was it? Fucksville Tennessee?” Harley quipped, swinging a leg over the beat up motorcycle that he was apparently about to ride. Yep. Terrible plan. “Don’t worry guys!” He called, hoping to mask the sound of him unlocking the roller door, “you won’t have to deal with me anymore!”

The sound of their confused muttering was quickly drowned out by the roar of bike’s engine. Harley took one shaky breath before clenching his hand around the throttle and jetting out of the house. 

The tires squealed in protest as Harley turned sharply to avoid the giant black vans sitting in front of his house. There were maybe four or five guys hanging around the cars. In unison they all turned to watch Harley zooming past them wth blank, confused expressions on their faces. Harley couldn’t help the need to put his finger up at them as he drove past. 

He laughed to himself when that seemed to do nothing but baffle them further. 

He was almost at the end of the street when he saw the woman and other soldiers tearing out of his house. A glance in the mirrors showed her probably yelling her head off at the five guys still standing there like idiots. 

Engines roared to life behind him and Harley felt panic settling back in. He was a fucking fourteen year old, how the hell he was going to avoid the army was a goddamn mystery. Especially considering this may technically be the first time Harley ever rode the motorbike around on actual streets at any kind of speed and not just slowly turning circles in a paddock. Fuck. 

Wind rushed past him, tugging him back as he tried to direct the bike towards the center of town. Every second he wasted trying to get the gears right was another second they were catching up to him. Really his only hope at that point was that he could lose them in town. They might have all their fancy training but no one knew the streets of Rose Hill like Harley. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He chanted under his breath when he turned a corner too sharply and nearly toppled the bike. In his moment of panic the only thing that crossed his mind was how mad his Mama would be that he was swearing so much. 

He righted the bike just in time to catch a glimpse of dark vehicles trailing after him. “Fuck.” 

Around him he could see pedestrians halt their morning activities. People he’d known his whole life were stopping at the side of the road to gawk at him as he got chased by the military. A small part of him hoped none of them would know it was him but in a town of roughly five old people and three cows that was pretty goddamn unlikely. 

Without thinking about it he realised he’d accidentally been heading towards the diner, where his mum worked but at the last second he corrected his course because like hell was he going to bring these assholes right to her. Instead he found himself heading for the reconstructed watertower. Of course he took the most complicated route he could until he’d managed to bring his pursuers into a dead end that’d take them at least five minutes to get back on the main road while he slipped through a tiny alley way. 

In the few minutes he had spare he ditched the bike, ignoring a twang of regret as he looked at the abandoned machine. The only thing left of his father. 

“That doesn’t matter now.” Harley reminded himself tersely. After a moment’s hesitation he stepped up to Mister Jenkin’s car and hoped he wouldn’t be pissed that Harley was commandeering it for a while. 

Fingers flying deftly, Harley hotwired the car just in time to see a black van hurtling down the street to his left. He was pretty sure they hadn’t actually found him, their driving far too aimless and frantic to have any clear direction in mind. Which meant he had just enough time to start the car and head out of town. 

It killed him to drive so slowly but he needed them off his tail and driving like a maniac was a bit of a giveaway. So instead he swallowed his panic and gently pulled out from the curb and began to inch his way towards New York. 

He didn’t turn around to look back at Rose Hill, not until it had faded well into the distance. 

 

______

 

“Boss?” Jarvis said, his voice cutting through the music that Tony was very much not listening to. 

“What is it now, J?” He said, a sigh escaping his lips. Tony leaned back in his chair, stretching as he moved for the first time in probably hours. Blinking tiredly, Tony looked away from the screen in front of him to find it was nearly midday which meant he had forgotten to sleep for yet another night. Pepper was gonna be mad when she found out but even she knew he couldn’t tear himself away for a second. 

Ever since Natasha released all of those goddamn files Tony had been practically glued to his computer. He needed to do damage control because apparently his so called teammates didn’t think it important to give him a heads up that not only was Shield compromised but that they were about to project every single one of everybody’s dirty little secrets onto the internet. 

Tony already had Jarvis sorting through the data, scanning for any mention of Tony and the people he cared about. J was incharge of making sure anything relevant to Tony and Stark Industries was hidden and removed immediately.

Which left Tony with the incredibly fun job of manually sorting through Shield personnel files to try and protect all of the genuine Shield agents. Apprently the Widow didn’t think far enough ahead to realise that there were hundreds of active agents across the world whose aliases and cover stories had just been uploaded online. Already fourteen people had been found out and killed. At least five family members taken out with them. 

Tony was doing his best to save as many people as he could but it was difficult work sorting through all of Shield’s piles of shit. 

“Sir?” 

“Huh?” Tony mumbled, realising he must’ve zoned out and missed whatever Jarvis had just said. 

“Sir, I just informed you that Protocol: The Kids Aren’t Alright, was just activated.”

Tony stared at the wall blankly for a second, his mind running through what the hell that meant. He really needed to invest in more explicit protocol names first of all. Then all at once it clicked. The defence system. The garage. 

“Harley.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The road before him swam in and out of focus. Harley had been staring attentively ahead for hours by that point, watching miles of tarmac drift beneath him as he drove. God, how did adults do this? The driving for hours upon hours. It was  _ exhausting.  _

 

Vaguely some part of his mind considered that he might also just be coming down off the adrenaline high that had started the moment a swarm of soldiers broke into his house. Then again it wasn’t like the adrenaline had ever really left him, if the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel was any indication. Or even the way he would practically jump out of his seat every time someone drove past, as rare as that may be. 

 

At the very least it seemed the soldiers had stopped trailing him, though they must’ve found his bike by that point.  _ Damnit _ . 

 

A quick glance down at the dashboard showed that Harley was very quickly about to run out of gas, which was… not good. Would it be smarter to siphon some gas from a parked car he found at the next town, or maybe to just steal a whole new car altogether? He didn’t exactly feel great about stealing cars, at least he’d known that Mister Jenkins hadn’t used this old rust bucket for three years and wouldn’t be missing it any time soon. But he didn’t know people outside of Rose Hill. Hell, he didn’t know  _ anything  _ outside of Rose Hill. He was so incredibly out of his depth right now. 

 

Furiously he rubbed at his eyes and tried to pretend the unpleasant burning sensation behind them weren’t tears threatening to spill over. 

 

_ Get a grip Keener. You’re fine. Everything is fine. You got out of there and they don’t know where you’re going. You’re safe. You’re going to get to New York and Tony will help you. He’ll remember you. He has to.  _

 

Harley’s thoughts seemed uncomfortably loud in the quiet of the car. No other noises except the soft rumble of the engine below could be heard. Well, not until the sirens. 

 

_ Fuck _ . Harley’s eyes jumped to the rear view mirror where he found the tell tale flash of red and blue following him. 

 

Dread settled in him stomach, weighing him down in place even as he reluctantly began to pull over. He was screwed. He was so, so screwed. 

 

A cop got out of her car, sauntering over to him with a pleasant smile on her face. A smile that dropped the second she looked through the window to see a literal child staring sheepishly back at her. 

 

Wordlessly, she reached to her hip and grabbed her radio. “Uh yeah, I got a small child driving a car by himself. Bringing him in now.”

 

Harley sighed. 

 

“I’m fourteen.”

 

-

 

Staring at the ugly linoleum floor tiles, Harley decided, was mildly more appealing than watching an entire police precinct struggle to figure out what to do with him. When he’d first been brought in he’d been asked by five seperate people what his name is to which he’d replied with increasingly stupid answers. They’d given up after he began pouting and telling them his name is Dora and he’s just an explorer that got a bit lost. 

 

Then there’d been the questions about who his guardians were which he didn’t bother even grunting a response to. And now, well, now there were just seven adults milling about and scratching their heads as they tried to seem even remotely competent. 

 

His gaze flicked around the station hestitatnly, panic behind his eyes, as he waited for the moment that the military was going to come barging in and taking him captive. But they never came. Instead, because the universe seemed to really be hating Harley that day, two new people showed up. 

 

He watched their every move out of the corner of his eyes, not willing to look directly at them, like if he did then they would somehow become another problem for him. If he just sat there, fiddling with some paper clips he’d swiped and scuffing his sneakers against the floor, then they would go away. That’s how things worked, right? 

 

Weirdly enough, his plan to sit there quietly seemed to achieve absolutely nothing. The two people clad in tightly pressed black suits turned to him in unison. Their gazes feeling even heavier than the tiredness that had been weighing him down for hours. One of them, the woman, attempted to smile. A quick flash of teeth that felt more like a threat and a promise. Of what, Harley wasn’t sure. The one thing he did know was that there was no way he was sticking around to find out. 

 

He was already halfway through planning his escape route when they began to walk towards him, the nice cop lady from before trailing uncertainly after them. It was strange; the way they moved, like sharks through water. Each step they took made Harley feel like he was getting smaller and smaller. By the time they stopped before him, he was pretty sure he would’ve been able to fit inside a coffee cup.

 

“Hi there Harley,” one of the sharks said far too chripily. Harley almost laughed at the way she seemed to be physically pained to talk like that. Whoever these assholes were they’d never had to interact with teenagers, clearly. “My name is Agent-”

 

“That’s a weird name.”

 

The grin sharpened, “Oh aren’t you funny? Well Harley my name is  _ Agent  _ Carter. And this is my partner Agent Smith.”

 

“Seriously? Smith? That was the best you could do? What, was “Agent Cliche” taken?”

 

Should Harley be snaking the agents? Probably not. 

 

Was he having fun doing it anyway? Absolutely. 

 

The woman continued to smile uncomfortably. “Well Harley,” Carter continued, “We’re both agents from the organisation known as Shield. Have you heard of us?”

 

Harley’s face pulled into a sullen frown at the woman’s voice. The patronising way she looked over him and talked to Harley like he was five wasn’t exactly appreciated. 

 

“Yes. Funnily enough, I have. Last I heard you guys were in the shit because some Avengers exposed you as a corrupt, incompetent and stupid organisation that can’t achieve their one goal because they were too busy being traitorous assholes.” Harley smiled benignly up at them, “or something like that.”

 

Carter’s smile dropped at once. Clearly she could recognise Harley’s barely concealed rage and repressed fear for what it was. Smith seemed to be a little slower on the uptake. 

 

“Kid, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Those are all just… rumours. And,” he tried to joke “I don’t remember any news station saying we’re a ‘stupid organisation’”

 

Harley stared at him. “They didn’t. I did.”

 

Smith’s smile  _ finally  _ dropped. He turned to Carter who stood passively next to him, arms crossed in some half hearted attempt to intimidate Harley. 

 

“This is the kid that Stark likes?” Carter nodded. “Yeah that fucking makes sense.” 

 

Carter sighed, rubbing her hands down her face before turning to Smith again “Stay here with the kid. I’ll go get custody.”

 

Harley felt his stomach drop as panic began to set in. The agents were going to take him away and they already knew who he was and they knew Tony. Crap. He was about to get kidnapped by the government. 

 

How was this even his life? 

 

If he craned his neck, Harley could see Carter arguing with the police captain. She was probably trying to pull rank but the captain just kept shoving paper work at her until Carter relented and sat down to sign two dozen documents, apparently. Harley had never been so grateful for beuracracy. 

 

Meanwhile Smith looked half asleep. He was leaning against the doorframe with his eyes closed and his stance lax. They must’ve spent all night looking for Harley, until some kind of facial recognition must’ve tipped them off. Harley glared at the nearest security camera for good measure. But whatever, the point was Smith was so out of it he hadn’t noticed the way Harley’s fiddling with a paperclip had turned into picking the lock on the handcuffs. And his sister said lock picking was a useless skill. 

 

He coughed suddenly, to cover the sound of the handcuffs clicking free. All that earned him was one eye begrudgingly opening only for Smith to nod his head at the water cooler in the corner of the room. Harley blinked innocently at him until Smith sighed and walked over there to get Harley some water.  _ Wow. That went way better than expected.  _

 

The moment Smith’s back was turned Harley leapt into action. He scrambled at the toolbelt that the police had inexplicably let him keep wearing, and pulled out a match and a strip of magnesium he had stashed away. Was this a stupid idea? Probably. Was he going to do it anyway? Absolutely. 

 

Smith had just turned the water tap off when Harley snuck up behind him, his sneakers quiet against the floor. Harley reaches out a hand and tapped Smith on the shoulder, “Hey look at this for a second, will you?”

 

_ What kind of trained agent actually looks when someone tells them to? _ Harley thought as he watched Smith back away from the blinding light, blinking furiously. The man stumbled back, hitting the wall and ducking his head as he tried to get his bearings back. Not that Harley let him of course, no, Harley simply darted forward and punched the guy in the throat, sweeping his leg out to kick the guy down. 

 

Harley may be small but he’d been in more than his fair share of fights against guys nearly twice his size. He was a scrappy little bastard that Shield would never see coming. And he was damn proud of that.  

 

Barely three seconds passed before a shout came from the other room. Harley glanced over to see Carter getting up, fury burning in her eyes as she began to storm over to Harley.  _ Shit _ . 

 

Whirling on the spot Harley reached out to grab the metal chair he’d been seated on and shoved it under the door handle, which, to his genuine surprise, held up even under the weight of Carter slamming her whole body against the door while the cops looked on in a strange mix of amusement and concern. 

 

A groan sounded from behind him, a quiet reminder that Harley had to get out of there. Now. Agent Smith grunted, climbing to his hands and knees as he tried to get not only his body, but also the remains of his dignity, off the floor. Harley panicked. Not that that was new or anything, he was pretty sure he’d been in a constant state of panic since he first opened his front door. But this time his panic seemed to manifest in a need to push Smith over and run into the bathroom. 

 

Slamming the door behind himself Harley had only one thought;  _ I’m an idiot _ . Because the boy genius had done something incredible, something unexpected, something really, really stupid; he’d just locked himself in. 

 

He turned on the spot, as though another entrance would just appear. Weirdly enough, it didn’t. Fists pounded against the bathroom door. Ah, so Agent Smith was back up. And mad. Very mad. 

 

“Kid! You better open this goddamn door before I start shooting it in!” 

 

“Uh,” Harley thought desperately for some kind of argument he could make that hopefully wouldn’t end up with him having a bullet through his body, “no?”

 

Okay… so not his  _ best _ argument. At least it seemed to give Smith pause for a second, his harsh knocking stopping for a moment or two. 

 

In that time Harley made the decision that he was totally and entirely fucked, and that he may as well just climb out the window at that point. He’d deal with the fact he was on the second floor of the building some other time. 

 

“Keener!” Oh look, Agent Carter seems to have gotten in too. How lovely. 

 

She and Smith were now working in tandem to switch between pounding against the door with their fists and then shouting about how they’re going to shoot the lock so Harley better just come out right now, this instant young man. 

 

Sheesh, had Shield agents literally never had to interact with teenagers? Ever? Seriously, how old did they even think he was?

 

Whatever, Harley had more pressing issues to worry about. They were the kind of issues that arose when he already had one leg out of a bathroom window of a police station on the second floor and no real idea of how to get down. Goddamn he was not prepared for any of this shit

 

Behind him the sound of the bathroom door cracking sharply filled his ears. With a final glance back, he swallowed his fear and lifted the other leg out over the sill, turning over to grip onto it with just his finger tips. Below him the drop seemed almost reasonable, the way that everyone thinks “yeah, I could totally survive that” and then they try it and the results are never quite what they expected. His sneakers scraped against the bricks as he struggled to find any kind of purchase. 

 

The road below looked dauntingly far but also just close enough. He could do it, right? Just let go. Stop the slight burning of his arms that were stretched too far above him. It would be easy. 

 

Harley screwed his eyes shut and breathed heavily through his teeth. Smith and Carter were mere seconds from breaking through and he was still hanging from the wall like an idiot. 

 

He was in the middle of drawing one final breath before dropping to the ground, hopefully keeping his limbs and his life intact, when a truck turned the corner. A garbage truck. A garbage truck with an open top. A garbage truck with an open top that was about to drive right below where Harley was still dangling. 

 

When Smith and Carter finally burst through into the bathroom they were met with quiet emptiness. And when Carter shoved her head out the window expecting to see a small body sprawled across the pavement she was instead met with a peaceful street and a view of a retreating truck that happened to contain and conceal one young boy who was busy scrunching his nose up and regretting everything in his life. 

 

-

 

Cameras swarmed on Tony the moment he landed.

 

After years of living in the public eye he barely even noticed them. Like flies on the wall. If the flies had giant lenses and liked shouting right into his face. 

 

“Mister Stark! What are your thoughts on the military’s recent actions?”

 

“Tony! Is it true you knew the child that lived in this house?”

 

“Stark! Are you responsible for the kidnapping of Harvey Kleaner?”

 

Tony was almost tempted to drop the face plate just so that particular reporter would be able to see the phenomenal eyebrow raise he was giving her at that moment. 

 

Instead though, he simply pushed past them, walking like a man on a mission. He’d learnt very quickly in his years as Iron Man that when in the suit he could walk in a straight line and the rest of the world would have to move out of his way. It was amusing to say the least when the sea of reporters parted before him, quieting down from a cacophonous yell to a scattering of murmurs. 

 

Once inside Tony peered around Harley’s home and tried not to let his breath catch in the back of his throat as he looked around at the damage. There were bullet holes in the wallpaper. Someone had shot at this kid for what? Because he knew Tony?! 

 

Anger seeped into his bones. Fury clouding every thought in his mind as he began churning through dozens of ideas about just what the hell he was going to do to the commander of this “mission” as soon as Harley was back. 

 

God. Harley. Where the hell was he?

 

Tony stepped further into the living room, feeling out of place in the cozy little home, despite the carnage littered throughout. Absently, he noted a smoulder on the floor and reached down to pick up a small metal contraption. Guess Harley kept his flash grenade after all. Good kid. 

 

In the corner of his eye he saw a small form creep into the room, clutching the doorframe like her life depended on it. Ever so slowly Tony let the armour drop around him, not giving any indication he’d seen her hovering there. She would interrupt him on her own time. 

 

“My brother is gone.” 

 

Apparently ‘her own time’ meant ‘right now’. 

 

“He is.” Tony said, turning to face her. Her young face was pinched in concentration but that didn’t stop her from glaring holes into Tony. Pepper would be so proud. 

 

“Are you gonna get him back?”

 

“I’m trying to.”

 

“People said it’s your fault he ran away.”

 

“Do you believe them?” 

 

Oddly enough Tony found himself sincerely hoping she didn’t. He was already burdened with his own guilt of not anticipating that the military would come after the kid. He wasn’t sure he could handle a furious ten year old rightfully blaming him for her brother’s life being in danger 

 

She straightened up, squaring her small shoulders and staring straight through Tony. “No. He helped you before. Now it’s your turn.”

 

And with that she flounced off, back into the depths of the tiny house. She probably went off to tell her mother that Iron Man had just broken in, which was fair. 

 

As he watched the girl stalk away Tony couldn’t help a small flicker of hope growing in his chest. The Keener family was not one to let something like this get them down, no matter how big it was. Harley would be out there, waiting for Tony to find him. 


	3. Chapter 3

The stench was… eternal. 

 

Really. Harley was pretty sure he would continue to be smelling like garbage for at least the next century. Maybe two. 

 

He wrinkled his nose against the air wafting against his face and did his best not to focus on the incredibly suspicious squelching noises coming from below him. Ew. 

 

The garbage truck he was in rumbled away happily, oblivious to the boy cowering in its midst. A part of Harley was begging him to just sit up and glance out the back, looking for any sign of those two agents but fear kept him rooted in place. 

 

Well, fear and irritation. His Ma had always told Harley that he was a stubborn son of a bitch. Except not in those words of course. Probably because if she had, then she wouldn’t exactly be coming out of that description all too well herself. 

 

Harley slumped back into the trash, resigning himself to this unconventional hitchhike for as long as he could. Of course, that is exactly the moment that the truck stopped only for an entire bin of trash to come pouring on top of Harley.

 

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, “I need a new plan.” 

 

Just as the truck began to pull away from the curb Harley waddled through the waste until he could jump out. A splattering of apple cores and cans full of liquids that he didn’t even want to try and identify, fell onto the road behind him. Quickly, Harley began to scurry through the streets, avoiding the judgemental stares of all adults that passed him by. 

 

He’d just come to a park where he hoped to find some kind of public restroom only to see a sleek black car meandering through the streets. Now, Harley didn’t know all that much about what kind of cars this town favoured, but for some strange reason he was guessing it wasn’t the type of car that was too rich for normal people but not rich enough for rich people. More importantly they probably didn’t favour cars that had the SHIELD logo printed on the side. 

 

“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of secret agency puts their own logo on a car?” Harley shook his head to clear those thoughts and ducked down behind a bush, waiting until the car had turned around a corner before he dashed across the grass into the bathroom. Thank god for public bathrooms; they’re always already filthy. 

 

Harley was quick to wipe off any remaining food scraps that had clung to his clothes, not even surprised that their addition to the floor wasn’t any grosser than what he could already see lying there. Then he began doing his best to wash half the stench and the various liquids he didn’t want to think too hard about, off his skin. At least now he looked gross but not repulsive. 

 

Baby steps.

 

His next course of action was to… what?

 

Harley gripped the metal sink basin and stared into his reflection, past the grimy stains and scratches that marred its surface until he could see his own face; youthful, filthy, and scared. 

 

He was a child. What the hell was he doing? Harley could feel his fingers itching to grab a phone and call his Ma, asking her to pick him up from wherever he was. He wanted to call Tony, if he’d even had his number, and ask him to help out. He wanted someone to tell him everything would be alright. 

 

Harley drew in a shuddering breath, already irritated with himself for breaking down so easily. It had only been a day of him running from the law, he shouldn’t start crying until at least a week, he decided. There had been not one single action movie he’d ever watched where the hero started crying immediately. Of course there wasn’t. Because heroes were cool, and badass, and they saved themselves. 

 

Slowly, Harley stood again, stretching back to his full, if somewhat unimpressive, height. He squared his shoulders and marched right back out into the park, ready to make his way to New York and fix all his problems once and for all. 

 

First things first; he needed to find a bus stop. 

 

Harley made his way through the town slowly, ducking in and out of stores and people’s backyards. He was a little ashamed to admit that he was stealing but the police station still had most of his stuff locked in Mr Jenkin’s car so he would just have to hope they returned it all to him later. Maybe he could make Tony bribe them or something. 

 

“Wow,” Harley mused, “Who knew I was such a criminal?”

 

The answer was probably those SHIELD agents that had just turned the corner. Harley squawked indignantly and dived into the closest store he could find. Immediately he slammed the door shut and stared out the window, tension building in his chest until he felt like he could burst. But even as he watched, the agents passed right on by, entirely oblivious to his presence because they were far too busy arguing with one another. Harley was pretty sure he saw the lady hit Agent Cliche at least twice during her rant. 

 

A sudden weight on Harley’s shoulder jolted him out of his intense glaring. He jumped, slapping the hand off of him even while lifting his other fist up, ready to fight. He came face to face with the store assistant who had just come over to make sure the young boy who had run into her store and proceeded to ominously stare out the window was okay. 

 

“Uh, kid?” She asked tentatively, still wary of the way Harley was yet to put down his fist, “You alright there?”

 

All at once Harley registered the fact that every single occupant of the cafe he had apparently found himself in, was staring at him. And probably the only reason no one was trying to kick him out yet was because he was fourteen, looked sleep deprived, scared, and was clearly running away from  _ something. _

 

What kind of national fugitive would he be if he didn’t totally take advantage of the concerned looks he could see getting thrown his way? 

 

For a second he paused, making sure to slowly lower his hands and to unclench his shoulders, he hunched over, making himself as small as possible before looking up at the woman with wide, damp eyes and a trembling lip.

 

“P-Please,” he stuttered, “Please help me.”

 

It was almost impressive how quickly every single person’s attitude shifted from suspicion to concern. Really. Harley deserved either an Oscar or maybe even a Nobel Peace Prize for that performance. With only one sentence Harley had just recruited an entire cafe into his own personal army. Parents were jumping up to try and help out the poor, innocent child. Staff members were already pouring him tea and shoving biscuits into his hands because “You poor little thing, you look so hungry. Here. Now don’t you worry about that wallet young man, you just eat this bread okay? It’s on the house.”

 

Harley beamed up at his new helpers. Genuine gratitude seeping into his smile. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, because his Ma might not be with him right now but she taught her son manners and he was not going to let her down now. Of course, he was also never going to tell her just how much stealing he had done that day, but he could probably let her know he’d remembered his “please and thank you’s”. 

 

“It’s alright darlin’,” the lady that had first talked to him said, “Do you mind telllin’ us what’s going on ‘round here?”

 

Harley swallowed thickly. He was really going to have to sell this if he wanted to get out of this town without anyone calling the cops on him again. 

 

“M-My Ma got a new boyfriend,” he said carefully, gaging the room’s reactions. A few gasps escaped into the quiet, some people already seeing where his story was going. To be fair though, Harley didn’t have to try all that hard to make up these lies, his Ma sure had gotten a boyfriend some time ago, but the moment he dared raise a hand against her kids he’d been out on his ass because Keeners didn’t put up with any of that nonsense, thank you very much. 

 

But still, he knew that this’d be his best bet out of here.

 

“Ma told me to head to the bus stop, she’d distract him y’see?” Sympathetic nods could be found across the room, “But he called in some buddies of his. Those two in the suits. A-and,” Harley bit his lip, mostly to stop himself from laughing at how absurd his life was right now, and also because he was trying real hard to cry and maybe if he bit his lip hard enough that’d work out for him. “And I just wanna go home!” He wailed.

 

Harley threw himself into the open arms of the waitress, ducking his head into her warm embrace partially because it really helped to sell his whole “I’m a scared child and need love and support right now” shtick, and also because he really needed to hide his face for a second. He let her hold onto him, his mind racing as he struggled to think of what the hell he could say to get these kind and generous people to trust him enough to let him escape to the bus stop without any of them calling the police. It was very, very important that he didn’t get arrested again. 

 

Aw. How did he end up in a place where he genuinely thought the words “I can’t get arrested again”? How did this happen to him?

 

Eventually Harley stepped back from the woman, determined to convince everyone in that room that despite literally everything they just saw, he was perfectly capable of skipping town on his own. Around him the cafe’s patrons gazed at him, half with suspisciously teary eyes, until one man moved forward from the crowd. Immediately Harley tried to rise to his full height, determined that a large man with the huge lumberjack beard and flannel shirt wouldn’t intimidate him. The man’s stern expressing was corrupted by a small twitch of his lips, almost a smile, when he saw Harley’s attempt to appear like a grown up. The man held out his hand to Harley who stared at it warily.

 

“You need a ride to the station boy?”

 

Harley looked up at him in surprise. 

 

“You offering?”

 

The man chuckled, “Course I am kid, we all know someone like your Ma’s man and we don’t like his kind ‘round here. You need to get out to meet up with your Ma? Well, we’re happy to help.”

 

A grin slowly spread across Harley’s face, he was going to get out of there. He reached out, clasping the man’s waiting hand and shaking it firmly. One day, when this whole mess got sorted, Harley was going to come back here and thank every one of these people personally. 

 

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” He said gratefully.

 

-

 

“What do you mean SHIELD are after him?”

 

“Well Sir, it appears Fury has dispatched two agents to track down Harley Keener and bring him in for questioning.”

 

“Questioning?” Tony’s indignant tone was enough to get Pepper to put down her tablet and glance over at him worriedly. Her work forgotten as she watched Tony pacing back and forth, fury clouding his every movement. “He’s a kid! A child! They want to question him? What kind of jurisdiction does SHIELD think it has to chase a kid around the country? And don’t they have anything better to do with their time? Correct me if I’m wrong here J, but I’m pretty damn sure they have a small issue of a national security breach and a little ol’ HYDRA infestation that they should be taking care of right now.”

 

“I cannot correct you Sir as you are already entirely correct.”

 

“Thanks J,” Tony’s anger numbing itself in favour of begrudging amusement, “knew I kept you around for something.”

 

“Is that something because I am integrated wholly with both your places of work and residence? Or perhaps because I am integral to the continued functioning of your Iron Man armours? Or is it only because I am programmed to inform you when you are correct?”

 

“Obviously option C there buddy. I always need to know when I’m right.”

 

“Of course Sir.”

 

Pepper smiled at the way Tony relaxed the more he talked to Jarvis, well aware that the man had barely had a moment to himself since the second he found out about the SHIELD leaks, and that stress had only increased exponentially the longer Harley Keener could not be located. 

 

“Alright buddy,” Tony sighed to himself, sitting back down as he drew a screen up before him, his face set in concentration. “Let’s go find my little mechanic all on our own.”

 

“Excellent plan Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet y'all thought i forgot about this fic but i'm back baby, and only like a month late


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